


Rock Around the Clock

by samiraxlula



Series: Life is Like an Hourglass [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Detective Comics (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: BAMF Jason Todd, Gen, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Has Mental Health Issues, Jason Todd is Robin, Mentioned Bruce Wayne, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Stalker Tim Drake, TW: Drug Abuse, Tw: attempted rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24535882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samiraxlula/pseuds/samiraxlula
Summary: With Batman out of town on a case, Jason finds himself teaming up with Harvey Bullock to deal with a strange new phenomenon plaguing Gotham atop of having to deal with the nagging feeling of someone watching him.
Relationships: Harvey Bullock & Jason Todd
Series: Life is Like an Hourglass [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723129
Comments: 25
Kudos: 145





	1. My Head is Aching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place during and after Batman #415 and Detective Comics #582 during the Millenium week crossover event. I'll mention it in occasionally during the next two stories but it will not be the focus here. It's only the reason Batman's out of town right now.

Quick footsteps strike the snow-covered alley cement like drum beats and are soon drowned out by a faster, more frenzied cadence accompanied by shrill cries.

A stray cat atop a closed dumpster hisses in annoyance of the disturbance as the sounds of thrashed fighting were heard and a loud slap echoed up the brick walls surrounding.

If one were to notice the assailant’s body language they would pick up on the wild, rapid movements of the dilated eyes, and poor physical coordination. All of which pointed to the use of a certain substance.

“Go to hell!” The owner of the deeper, yet still somewhat young voice grabbed the woman’s arm and twisted it back with a sickening popping sound and a pained scream.

“I’ve always wanted to see hell. Didn’t get a chance the first time ‘round.”

A razor sharp smile with teeth almost unnaturally bright appeared in the darkness above. It was a sinister smile, of one who had seen death and despair and yet still moved without remorse. 

This time it was the man who screamed, all paranoia and cold sweats as the withdrawal effects started to worm in atop fear of what the assailant perceived as a demonic figure descended upon him like a dagger that had struck home.

“Don’t flinch.” The bird advised, a cold whisper in the man’s ear. 

He then snapped his neck.

“D-did you just…” The woman’s eyes were wide as her breath came out in white clouds on a black winter night background.

“Nah. He’s just unconscious. Might need to call a good chiropractor, though.” 

Stepping on the man’s hands with his boot, Robin broke every finger in both as he waved his own green-gloved hand dismissively towards the idea. “This’ll be more permanent.”

Jason had seen a lot of horrible things in his lives, a lot done by his own hand as well granted, but he wasn’t going to add onto the woman’s traumatizing experience by slitting a druggie’s throat in front of her, no matter how badly he wanted to get rid of this particular slime.

Sure, his first kill upon his re-arrival may have only been an opportunistic one, but he made sure to keep to a certain code in all the following. Because if there was one thing that could push him over the edge, it was the fact that someone could get away with any number of violent crimes solely because of their privilege while the victim gets forgotten. 

It didn’t matter how many times Batman brought them in and placed them in police custody, they would only slip right through the cracks and get right back out there and continue doing the same thing the next time.

“May I?” 

Clipping off his yellow undersided cape, Robin held it out to the blonde woman in question, who nodded in permission before he wrapped it around her shoulders, covering her torn top and granting her some warmth.

“Now, I could pop your shoulder back in for you, but I think having a doctor reset it would be a lot less painful.”

“I...don’t have the money to go to a hospital.” The woman, who Jason guessed to be around her early twenties and in the business of prostitution, looked embarrassed by the admittance. 

“Don’t worry about it. I happen to know a really cool doctor who runs a free clinic a few blocks over.”

“Leslie Thompkins?”

“Oh, good. You know her already.” Robin extended a hand in offering to help her up. 

While she was still shaking, both frightened from the experience and the man unconscious only a foot away from her, she felt oddly safe seeing the boy’s kindly expression betrayed by the white lenses and the emotionless mask so carefully crafted on his face. 

Taking his hand, Robin helped her up and away from the man but not before tacking on a blue sticker to the man’s forehead that simply read "drug abuse hotline" and a phone number in black letters. 

He’d need someone else to call them in though, considering the state of his hands.

“You think he was a feverhead?” The blonde didn’t look back as they walked off with the red, yellow and green garbed boy escorting her safely.

“He is a bit older than the average user of the stuff but the signs and symptoms were all there.” Robin’s voice lowered into something more apologetic. “I’m sorry that you had to deal with that.”

The woman shook her head. “I’ve got a little brother on the stuff. ‘Five bucks for four, ten-spot an’ everybody’s happy’ he’s always saying.” 

She scoffed after that, though a look of despondency was visible as well. “I mean, I heard all the crazy stories like that group of twelve-year olds high on it who burnt an elderly security guard to death but I had a hard time believing it, ya’ know?”

By the time they arrived at the Park Row community clinic, Leslie was outside on the back steps kneeling in front of a somewhat large and furry creature. Her silver hair was falling out of its bun and she seemed frazzled by the animal.

“Hiya, Doc.” Robin waved with his free hand as the older woman looked up at the pair, her eyes immediately going to the limp arm the girl was cradelling. 

“Let me guess, a run-in with everyone’s latest favourite drug?” Leslie looked as if she had taken the drug to be her own personal nemesis.

“Do you even need to ask?” Jason passed the care of the woman over to Bruce’s foster mother, a fact of which always made him wonder if one was considered to be a grandmother to their foster son’s adoptive son.

“I’ll stay out here to walk you home when you're done.” Robin promised the blonde, who turned back to smile gratefully at him.

Leslie seemed pleased by this idea as well, though partially for other reasons which Jason had the feeling it had to do with the old and clearly dying dog outside the back door of the clinic.

“I’ll watch the dog for you too, Doc.” Robin answered her first as Leslie had only opened her mouth before settling into an amused smile, crinkled lines and all.

“Thank you, Robin.” She disappeared into the clinic with the blonde and left Jason in the back alley with the slowly breathing dog and the crisp winter wind blowing through.

“So, I guess someone just dumped you here, huh?” Jason sat quietly beside the old dog, whose pants were fading and quiet in tone. “Believe me buddy, I know the feeling.”

It had been almost two full years since Jason was dumped some nine years into the past, right after having been killed a second time with his previous murderer also in the room and still laughing at the whole affair.

Jason was physically thirteen now and had been Robin for quite some time. He’d fought rogues and gangs and even helped the Titans out in Switzerland just last month.

But in spite of all that, he had been living his new life very hesitantly after his third-life crisis and still felt like he was walking through a nostalgic dream on occasion. He hated the feeling.

“You wouldn’t mind if I just kept you company, would ya’?” 

Stroking it’s dirty fur that seemed to have some bloody patches, the dog seemed to settle some with the gentle contact. 

“It’s been so long since anyone listened to me talk. Not that I really have anyone to talk to about my whole new living situation, of course. I used to though.” Jason nodded at the dog as if he were engaging in an actual discussion. “With Talia. I kinda miss her advice right now to be honest.”

“I still just can't... _get over it_ , you know? I'm still angry and in pain, I'm just not directing it at B anymore. I've tried letting it out on criminals but... I feel like I just don't know what to do with myself anymore."

The dog lifted it’s head up to settle on Jason’s lap to the vigilante’s surprise, probably wanting to be scratched behind the ears of something. He couldn’t help but smile a bit at the animal and give it what it wanted.

“Thanks for listening.”

*

After Jason had left Leslie and the dog to escort the blonde woman home, who was apparently named ‘Holly Robbinson,’ he aimed his grappling gun to head off back home where Alfred was probably waiting up with tea and a scolding lecture about patrolling on his own even though it was only nine o’clock.

However, what halted his venture back was a signal being lit in the frigid dark sky, earning Jason’s curiosity. And since he knew Batman wouldn’t be answering it, he decided to check it out for himself.

“You ain’t the Bat.” 

The voice of Harvey Bullock switched off the far too bright signal as Jason landed with a faint crunch of built-up snow on the rooftop, steady despite the layer of ice underneath.

An oddly-fond feeling came over the bird as he took in the heavy-set detective. He was one of the few cops in Gotham he had ever gotten along with and actually liked. He also appreciated that fact that he had never reeled back his heavy Bowery accent like Jason had.

“He’s out of town looking for the real Commissioner.” 

“Glad someone is.” Bullock waved around his lit cigar. “Had ta’ get that pain-in-our-asses Atkins distracted just so that I could turn on this nightlight. Who in a’ hell would’ve expected ‘im to replace Jimbo after he turned out to be a robot?”

Harvey smoked his frustrations with the Commissioner's fill-in out while he handed Robin a casefile, not caring much which half of the dynamic duo he could enlist.

“Anotha' string of unexplained deaths. Would’ve just handled it a’selves but the others figgered that since there’s nothin’ going on these days without the fever-drug being involved there must be a connection, even though these cases are all involvin' adults.”

_So was that twenty-something year old he just broke the fingers of. Is the drug just picking up popularity with a new age demographic?_

Before he had left, Batman had asked Jim to forward him any new possible leads on the fever crisis, which Batman had taken to solve quite seriously. Jason guessed Harvey was told to continue doing so in the Commissioner's stead before he left for Louisiana. 

“Sure, why not.” Robin shrugged good-naturedly as he read through the oddities of the case.

“I was looking into it already.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Created a Spotify playlist for the series:  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6SorEZbkzOZGsfc3M5UmoI?si=vmwNuQNATxSkhAl7L7Zu1A


	2. Heart Not Quite Breaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should perhaps mention that from here on out the final three main stories will all be connected to tie into a final ending while the previous three works were sort of solo villain arcs.

The winter winds howl outside as students come and go through the academy’s gates, back from winter break and hustling and bustling down the school corridors.

The noisy chatter and sounds of lockers slamming shut were muffled from behind the heavy swing doors where a single boy amidst the many other students utilizing the library was engaged in a fierce debate.

“Moby Dick is about a self-fulfilling prophecy, Jason.” 

“Oh come on,” Jason disagreed vehemently with a huff. “The whale represents coming to terms with the self-hatred that’s in all of us.”

Being a thirteen year old in tenth grade didn’t leave Jason with many friends to talk to, even if he ignored the fact of having skipped two grades and not being able to relate to the different upbringing and interests of his born-wealthy peers.

It never really bothered him pre- or post-resurrection as he had always been introverted and kept to himself. 

Even after school, he had been kept busy with training and cases, so he never even thought about his lack of social interaction.

He still put in the same effort to his civilian self as his old self did, joining the baseball team and becoming a class officer but he didn’t have the same enthusiasm as he used to. 

He was mentally a _decade_ older than these kids, after all. 

The bell rang throughout the academy campus, cutting off the still ongoing English literature debate.

“Oop, now that’s the bell!” The now smiling librarian nodded towards the stack of books being held in Jason’s arms.

“I’ll check those out for you now since you need to get going.” 

Not thinking much of the many other students getting up from the tables, shuffling through flashcards and flipping pages, Jason didn’t pay any heed to the pair of eyes watching him closely as he watched the librarian scan the books with a beep for each cover.

*

“Master Jason, I can hardly approve of this solo outing of yours.” Alfred’s scolding voice came through the comm link in Robin’s ear.

The snow had begun to fall lightly and become about two inches build-up on the ground. And though his colourful combat gear was insulated, the combination of the wind coming off the building side and the snow melting on his face and hair left him wrinkling his nose in the chill.

He was definitely a lot more tolerant of the winter after having spent considerable time on snow-capped mountain tops in the Himalayas and Russia during his ‘years abroad,’ but he still never cared for winter in Gotham.

“Relax, A. It’ll just be a quick in-and-out. I’m not planning on getting into any trouble.”

Climbing up the side of the run-down apartment building to stop in front of a window, Jason’s mouth twitched in interest as he noticed the hidden alarms in front of it. 

_Someone wasn’t playing around._

“Besides, I’ve already done all my homework and it’s not a school night.” 

Disabling the alarms while finding it intriguing for someone to go to such lengths for a mere two-bit drug lab, theories began to run through his head.

The sort of building he was currently perched on the side of had ‘clandestine chemistry’ writing all over it which is why Jason had never allowed the real money-making cartels and drug rings he ran as the Red Hood to use them. 

He also knew that no serious players used these types of dilapidated buildings so that scratched off most of the big names in his suspect list. 

Before Batman had left he had been looking into Penguin or Scarface’s possible involvement in the drug crisis but he supposed that now he knew that to be false.

The reason he didn’t know or couldn’t _remember_ the actual instigators was because Fever hadn’t swept into Gotham until he was fifteen in his previous life and still hadn’t been solved before his death at the hands of the Joker.

He was only thirteen now, so this was yet another change that his ‘swap’ brought about and Jason was _pissed_ about it. 

Not so much for the time difference, as he could get used to that, but the fact that Fever was something sold exclusively to teens and pre-teens, which was a huge trigger for Jason’s anger and something he had nearly completely cut off the practice of as the Hood. 

Or at least, Fever _was_ sold exclusively to kids before young adults started dying as well.

“Talk to you later, Alfie.” 

Jason turned off his comm with a little laugh as he slid open the frosted window and slipped into the darkened room, his infrared lenses immediately switching to night vision after not taking in any heat-emitting people roaming around.

What was especially wonderful about Batman being out of town and not on his six was that Robin didn’t have to ‘slow down’ or limit himself in what he could do.

It also helped that every other hero residing in Gotham was currently elsewhere as well. 

Nightwing was only seen with the Titans or in Blüdhaven, Barbara was in Washington serving her term in congress and the Outsiders, a new addition after Batman had quit the Justice League earlier on due to the whole mind-wiping scandal, were on a covert international mission.

Hence, free unlimited roaming for Jason.

Heading down to the basement with all the standard precautions of moving in shadows taught to him by both Batman and the League despite there not being any visible challengers, the second boy-wonder supposed that at one point he probably would have been ecstatic about Bruce losing even more connections, all with any real pushing or manipulation from Jason’s end.

But that was not something he cared about these days.

Bruce had called from Louisiana to check up on him earlier that afternoon, being only an hour behind Gotham in his time zone. It hadn’t been the most awkward conversation he’d had with his adoptive father as they mainly talked shop and school before Bruce had to go.

Somehow, he always felt a bit lighter after Bruce called, even after ignoring most of his whole ‘don’t patrol the End End again without me there,’ which is where he happened to be at that exact moment of course.

The creaking sounds of the pipes became more apparent as Robin found his way into the basement. 

It smelled musty with a faint tinge of blood that the dim light provided by the single bare bulb dangling from the ceiling explained to Jason’s surprise upon not finding any manufacturing equipment or amount of substances.

What he instead found was evidence for surgical procedures.

The basement was as quiet and cold as a morgue as Jason walked across the concrete floors to inspect the tools and instruments, taking the necessary photo evidence with which his mask was also fitted with. 

While he would’ve liked to enjoy the peace while it lasted, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was an eerie sort of quiet.

“Oh, my goodness gracious!” Robin grinned as he backflipped to get away from the two green-scaled hands coming to crash down on the table he was taking pictures of.

_Guess our Ol’ Croc boy hasn’t been drafted into that suicide squad, yet._

“I’ve never tried this new bird. I wonder what your heart tastes like?”

Although Waylon did occasionally work for Gotham's various mob organizations as a brutal and cannibalistic hit-man to satisfy his appetite for violence and money, those were days past and now it was only odd to see Croc come out of his sewers without reason, which made Jason’s suspicious grow exponentially about this whole affair.

A roar bellowed out of the ten-foot genetically mutated man’s rancid meat-smelling jaws as he lifted and heaved the stainless steel operating table towards Jason, who easily moved out of the way.

“CROC HUNGRY NOW!”

“Robin bored now!” 

While the mutant’s strength, speed, stamina and healing factor were troublesome qualities to defeat, Jason had been trained by the best.

When his scaled arm came towards him again, he grabbed on and used the momentum to swing up and onto his back, tagging two explosives against his neck which wouldn’t have killed him anyway given his literal thick skin, though it did send him down but not before Jason leapt off and used a batarang to slice through the backs of his calves.

“Who’re you working for now, Croc?”

“The only boss a' me..is me!” 

“You’ll forgive me for doubting that.”

From where the cannibal was knocked out flat on the floor, now completely out of it, it didn’t seem like he was telling a lie but circumstances overruled Jason trusting the half-reptilian’s words. 

For someone who normally kept to himself, Jason couldn’t understand from one introvert to another why Waylon would come up to the surface ground after so long away from it. 

Unless he was being forced, there was no point to protecting this seemingly abandoned and now wrecked laboratory. 


	3. My Ghosts Linger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter needs to be cut through and edited. Sigh.

Detective Sergeant Harvey Bullock was coming home from pulling a late night down at the police headquarters, trudging up the many flights of stairs to his apartment building because yet again, the elevator was out of order.

He thought about moving while he used his hand to shake the snow out of his hair and then fish his key out of his pocket once he got to his unit’s door. 

What stopped him, however, was the sound of a studio laugh track from his television playing through the door when he knew for a fact that he had turned it off before leaving for work. 

He hadn’t had any hitmen come after him since the whole debacle of turning his back on Mayor Hill and siding with Gordon but that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible for the scorned former mayor to decide to get rid of him once and for all for his betrayal.

Pulling his Glock pistol out of its holster hidden underneath his trenchcoat, he slid in his key, twisted and counted to three before swinging the door open.

As he bursts in with his gun aimed, Bullock could only stare speechlessly at the sight of the colourfully dressed boy sitting on his couch and eating a box of doughnuts while another round of paid laughter from the television set echoed throughout the apartment. 

“ _Relax_ ya’ big oaf. It’s only me—your new partner.” The kid had the audacity to wave and smirk impishly. 

“You can’t just bust inta’ people’s hom—my new _what?!_ ”

“Hey, I brought you doughnuts.” Robin raised the box he was eating from to display its contents. “I got kinda tired of waiting up for you so I had a few but most are still left...”

“Kid...what tha’ hell.”

“So I checked out your ‘mysterious deaths’ case and found that all the involved people laying in the GCPD morgue right now all went to the same location at one time or another.” 

The kid just barrelled into his explanation without giving Bullock a chance to interject. “Old run-down building, nothing impressive, which is why I thought it might have been a drug lab at first taking into consideration your own theories.”

Bullock accepted the visitation as it was and plucked a doughnut from the box to listen to the rest.

“Turns out that it had nothing, or at least much to do with the processing or handling of Fever but had a lot to do with some kind of illegal surgical procedure.”

“Surgery?” Bullock frowned, thinking about all the deaths in the open case. “Where’s this lab now?”

“Well, I could give you the address but it’s been completely destroyed. Waylon Jones made an appearance, you see. I did get pictures though.”

“ _Killer Croc?_ That mutant psycho?” 

“Hey. I haven’t had many conversations with Croc, as he’s tried to eat me on multiple occasions, but he seems like an otherwise chill guy.”

“You’re insane, kid.”

“Oh, you’ve got no idea.” 

Robin snickered underneath his breath as Bullock could only sigh and switch off the television set. This kid just existed on a different wavelength from the rest. 

“So what's your big idea, now?”

“Well, the last spotted person coming out of the building before I snuck in must have some inkling as to the nature of the facilities. We’re going to go chat him up.”

“ _We?_ ”

“I thought you might want to feel included.” 

*

“His name’s Frankie Bandano,” Robin spoke from the passenger’s side of the sleek Dodge Monaco, which served as an unmarked police vehicle currently parked to the side of a dock warehouse.

The snow had built up enough on the windshield to block them from sight and provide an icy white cover, even with the remaining heat from the shut-off car still keeping them warm.

Harvey Bullock leaned over to take in the information brought up on the holographic screen the kid pulled up from his gauntlet, which he had to admit was very impressive, not that he'd ever tell it to his face before he jolted back in surprise.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” The scruffy-looking man immediately backed up with his hands raised in a placating manner. 

“Kid, this isn’t just anybody ya’ can stroll up to. He _is_ the waterfront gang after Matches Malone went off ta’ prison.” 

“You have no idea how funny that statement is. But seriously, Bullock, this level of distrust from you after we shared _food_...I’m hurt. " 

“You're just so damn delightful to be around, aren’t ya’.”

“That's what I keep telling people. And here I was starting to think I was false advertising.”

Upon noticing one of the doors with a glowing red exit sign above it open and a tall, moustached man walk out while lighting a cigarette, Robin didn’t waste any time in slipping out of the car, quickly moving to the side of the warehouse and keeping to it.

Bullock, on the other hand, had no choice but to simply grab his hat and follow the small and barely-there tracks in the snow as he wasn’t the type of man to just let a kid go off into danger alone.

Speaking of kids, he had to wonder how old this Robin was anyway. He obviously wasn’t the first one since Bullock remembered him being a lot older and _taller_ , but they were both still ridiculously young. What could the kid be in... _junior high?_

As Robin moved his hand up, down and around in a series of tactical hand signals, Bullock wondered as many Gothamites had to at some point: where was Batman picking up all these smart-mouthed birds?

“How old are ya’ anyway, kid?” Bullock had to curiously ask in a stage-whisper as they approached closer to the edge of the building and Frankie smoking around the corner.

“Twenty-two. I’m a midget in disguise. Now, _shhh!_ ”

Robin reached around in one swift takedown move to drag Bandano and practically swing him back, slamming him onto the wall while covering his mouth which a still-lit cigarette dropped out of to prevent him from drawing attention and bringing out more of his gun-toting thugs.

Bandano quickly reached into his coat pocket to pull out a switchblade — which made Jason roll his eyes from behind white lenses even though the point was pressing into his side. Even if he was stabbed, he knew the armour wouldn’t allow for a deep wound.

With his hand still covering Bandano’s mouth as Bullock cracked his knuckles and chuckled intimidatingly off to the side, it apparently had the wanted effect of making the mobster know that he was cornered with a single nod from him in understanding.

As Robin removed his hand and stepped back, the man rushed forward with the knife towards the smaller threat which allowed Bullock the opportunity to wrestle him to the ground before snapping upwards to take the knife from him.

“Let’s get one thing straight.“ Bullock held the knife to the man’s throat in a display of the unethical methods he was known for. “You are dirt underneath my shoes.”

Robin merely watched the interrogation scene blankly while it played out. It wasn’t as ugly as some of the methods the League or any of his other teachers employed, but it was effective enough he supposed.

“Hey, man! I don’t know _nothin’_ about no surgery or drug labs!”

Robin had to roll his eyes yet again at the man _well_ known throughout the lower districts for his running of one of the biggest drug-dealing rings in the city affiliated with the Penguin. He would very obviously know a hell of a lot when it came to ‘labs.’

"Look, all we want to know right now is any info you have on the basement of the apartment you were dealing out of.” 

Jason had never really interacted or even worked with this particular man during his ‘controlling crime,’ days as he figured him being one of the many casualties of the huge gang war that went down before his return to Gotham.

Black Mask had pretty much taken over everything afterwards, including the waterfront mob. Though he was dead now, of course, he recalled with a little smile.

“The basement? My men only worked out of the upper floors, how the hell would I know?”

Bullock, who had by that point lifted him back up, twisted his arm dangerously close to popping it out of his socket.

“Okay! Wait, wait! I might now know where the main manufacturing location of Fever is. That is...for a little something, capiche?”

“How about a little life?” Robin’s leering grin was spooky enough to bargain with. 

The only real reason Bandano was willing enough to give up such a location was because with how popular Feverol Trinitrite was becoming, all other drug sales were losing profit. Drugs _he_ sold. 

And while Jason hated to admit it, Fever posed a much bigger problem than cocaine or any other street drug considering how high the body count was becoming. 

People were literally losing their minds taking it, going on power rushes where they went out killing and assaulting other people with all the strength of Godzilla. And the worst part was that the ones taking the drug were almost all under eighteen, with a few rare exceptions of cases in their twenties. 

Jason still wasn't fully certain how the surgical equipment and Croc tied into the city-wide crisis as a whole or if the case Bullock gave him really was a separate issue. Glaring down at the man who rattled off the location they wanted, the bird still had questions he wanted answers for. 

And he would get them.

“Bullock.”

“How ‘bout you wait in the car for me. I have some methods of my own.”

Ever since he became Robin and gained the freedom to fly with it, or as much Bruce allowed with his over-protectiveness, he was able to go off on his own a bit and take to the East End in particular whenever Batman’s attentions were elsewhere.

It was the territory he ran as the Red Hood and the borough he was born into. As such, he knew it better than any billionaire from Bristol, Gotham City with a transatlantic accent. He knew that with the number of murders in the area, no one would notice a few pimps and drug dealers being killed off.

The ordinary civilians who still lived there would say nothing. What was there to say? When bad men get what’s coming for them, Gothamites always merely averted their gaze and continued about their lives, one worry lighter.

Cracking his knuckles, Jason also knew that would be the case here as well.

Making his way back to the car not even five minutes later or enough time for Bullock to fully enjoy his cigar after calling in to the station to report the supposed manufacturing location for Fever as well as the hopefully still unconscious Killer Croc, Jason had enough of a lead to go off of for him to be happy and only knock Bandano out to give them some getaway time.

"Got a lead for the surgery connection?" The older man inquired in his thick accent, taking his last few puffs seeing as how Robin didn't mind at all.

Noticing Robin pause for a minute as if he was trying to decipher something, Bullock raised an eyebrow. "You alright, kid?"

"Hm? Yeah. Just felt like someone was watching me for a minute there." Giving a trademark Robin grin, the two got into the starting car. "Let's check out our next stop."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harvey Bullock and Jason's friendship consists of doughnuts, snark, Gothamite accents and being a l i t t l e too violent with criminals.


	4. On Street Corners

Jason Todd was not a good person.

There was blood on his hands and scars in his heart. He was a person who had killed, lied, manipulated, stolen and would not regret nor hesitate to do it all over again.

He grew up witnessing horrors that most children would never otherwise see, he had been beaten, betrayed, buried and replaced. He was morally skewed and knew that sometimes people had to do bad things just to get by.

Life was about _survival_ —not pleasure.

He could tell you the difference between killing someone and murdering someone. Pleasure and business. Collateral damage and a choice. 

_“You are learning,”_ Talia had told him over a smile and a glass of wine in a quaint little German pub.

It was simply his take on the world.

“You shore this is tha’ place, kid?” Bullock pulled the car over in front of a shady-looking bar on the outskirts of the city. “Doesn’t seem like a place a docta’ would hang out.”

The only lead Frankie Bandano seemed to have that was of interest to them apart from a location for a drug bust was the name of the doctor who was using the basement of the apartment building. 

Apparently this rather shady surgeon used to frequent an establishment adorable named, ‘My Alibi Bar and Grill,’ which was patroned by a number of criminals and rogues when they weren’t in Arkham. Possible clientele for the doctor, Jason supposed. 

“Well, Bandano did say that he had even gone out for drinks with the guy here.” 

Robin shrugged nonchalantly while looking out the window, the moonlight reflecting off of the snow as Bullock cut the car lights.

“Still don’t know what kinna name ‘the Crime Doctor,’ is.” Bullock frowned as he slipped the keys back into his pocket and got out of the vehicle. “But I guess it’s still not as stupid soundin’ as ‘Killer Moth,’ or frickin’ ‘Kite Man.’”

“It’s just a nom-de-guerre.” Robin couldn’t help but let a little laugh out for that. “His real name’s Bradford Thorne.”

Ol’ Frankie hadn’t been the one to know that little tidbit of info, however. 

While the ‘Crime Doctor’ was simply known as just that to his underworld clientele, Jason had dealt with this man before in his first life as Robin and hence knew a little more than just any non-future comers. 

“Let me guess, a relative of our esteemed Boss Rupert Thorne?”

“Younger brother to be specific.”

“Of course he is.” Bullock sighed heavily as he tipped his fedora somewhat back before noticing that Robin wasn’t going to follow him in. “Aren’t you coming along, kid?”

“I’d better stay hidden.” Jason held back outside, using his hands to emphasize the ‘R’ symbol on his chest. “A dirty cop is easier to talk to than Batman’s ‘sidekick.’”

“Heh. Yeah, that’s probably true.” 

Although Bullock agreed, Jason could recognize the disguised discomfort coming off of the departing man as soon as he mentioned the surname, ‘Thorne.’

Slipping into the shadows that surrounded the establishment while keeping an eye and ear out for any problems that may have arisen, Jason supposed that was only because of his history being one of the many corrupt cops Gotham had to offer. 

The year he had ‘swapped’ into the place of his ten-year-old self was the same one Mayor Hill had been running for mayoral office under the instruction of Rupert Thorne, who had previously failed to be elected to the position himself.

Considering both of the men's’ great dislike for the now-missing Police Commissioner Gordon, the moment Hill was elected the two conspired to have Jim fired in favour of another officer who was on Thorne's payroll as well.

The man they hired to ruin Gordon’s reputation? A recently reinstated Sergeant Harvey Bullock of the Major Crimes Unit, who had been suspended following an internal investigation. 

Jason thought it rather embarrassing for them both to not have realized that the ol’ lug was secretly a soft, sentimental movie geek who only _looked_ like a ‘bad cop’ despite his admittedly useful reputation for taking bribes, police brutality, and ties to organized crime. 

Checking the time on his wrist, Jason slumped over on the ledge he had swung up to for a vantage point as he realized how much trouble he was in. 

He had turned off his commlink and left to check out that building at nine o’clock and here it was already one in the morning. Alfred was going to kill him when he slipped back in.

He’d probably already called Bruce by this time as well, who was still in the Louisiana bayous pursuing the Manhunter lead with the real Gordon, narrating his solo escapades around Gotham with great disapproval. 

How times have changed. He remembered not having to worry about coming home on time when he was the Red Hood, though that was probably because he didn’t have a home anymore then...

Watching for any signs of the Crime Doctor with a shake of his head to forget about that line of thinking, Jason finally got to see what he wanted when a suspiciously nondescript car pulled up and a tall, lanky man walked out and into the bar.

*

“Well, here’s Bradford Thorne now.” The bartender pointed with his chin as Bullock released his hold on his collar to turn his head towards the entrance.

The bar was a real dive, like so many others in this part of Gotham. A jukebox blared in the background, competing with harsh laughter and dirty jokes while ceiling fans fought a losing battle against the smoky haze, which reeked of tobacco and other controlled substances. In short, not the place a notable doctor would ordinarily be caught dead in.

Upon noticing the Detective Sergeant, the salt-and-pepper haired man made an attempt to turn and flee although he only ended up falling flat on his face when a bird descended upon him and landed on his back.. 

“Chirp, chirp, motherfucker.”

A wave of murmuring and chairs skidding back were heard throughout the bar as they all noticed Robin, clearly expecting Batman to be just behind him. Jason didn’t bother correcting anyone as they started to run out of the establishment, leaving behind only the people of importance at the moment. 

“I can hardly hope being accosted like this is appropriate for a man of my standing!” Bradford sputtered indignantly, calling attention to the fact of his being a renown doctor in the city as Jason hopped off his back unperturbed and took a seat atop the bar counter while Bullock stood the man up.

“We don’t really give a damn who ya’ are unless you answer our questions.”

“Questions?”

“Were you workin’ tonight?”

“Don’t be absurd now, detective. I would never work on the _sabbath_.”

 _He’s not Jewish, though._ Robin kept silent but catalogued the information for future reference, wondering why the man would emphasize the word so much, as if they were supposed to know some sort of hidden meaning attached to the word.

Bullock didn’t bother with any restraints as the ‘Crime Doctor’ calmly allowed the line of questioning after having smoothed down his coat, to the point of actually being willing and helpful, which wasn’t like the man Jason remembered him being at all.

“Alright then, were you workin’ out of the condemned building’ on Starlin avenue any day before that?”

As Bullock asked the man about the individuals who were seen going into the building but coming out dead, the doctor seemed to have some sort of neck pain as he kept rubbing his nape with an expression of discomfort.

“Very well, detective. I will admit that we had a few unfortunate casualties during the operation—”

 _Wait, what?_ Jason's eyes narrowed in confusion both with how the man basically confessed without issue and in disbelief towards what the man was even saying. _This can’t be right._

Though Bradford Thorne had a fascination with crime and aided a number of criminals from petty thugs to big-name rogues with his medical expertise and even legal consultation, he still strictly adhered towards his hippocratic oath and refused to kill, even going to great lengths to prevent such an occurrence. 

“What’s the point of this whole scheme of yours, anyway?” Robin finally questioned the man himself, dissatisfied with the answers Bullock was getting. 

“You misunderstand.” Thorne turned his head towards the teen still sitting on the counter, which made Jason notice how dull in life his eyes looked. “ _I_ don’t have a scheme. I am only part of the scheme.”

“Great confession. I’ll have a beer now.” Bullock slapped his hand down on the counter and ordered a drink to Jason’s bemusement, even though he was still working out theories in his head.

“What’ll ya have kid?” He asked as the bartender slid over the drink he had just poured from the tap, Thorne only sitting there without moving. 

“Milk.”

The remaining men in the bar went completely silent.

“...Did you just...order _milk_ at a bar?”

“What do you want from me? I’m thirteen!” Robin hissed back at Bullock, thinking back to his last incident with alcohol at a certain fundraising dinner.

A single shot came firing through the glass windows of the bar and sniped right through Thorne's head, killing him instantly as his head thudded down onto the ground and left Robin and Bullock in a state of shock.

_How did he not notice anyone?!_

Racing out of the bar with his yellow cape flying behind him and leaving behind the slower Bullock, Jason skidded to a sudden stop in complete horror as he rounded the corner and came face-to-face with his worst fear.

“Robin?”

Staring in blank horror to see his replacement standing there on the sidewalk with a nervous but star-struck expression and a camera strung around his neck, Jason felt as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over him in the dead of winter.

And that was when Jason’s fragile trust in Bruce shattered once more, the shards even sharper than ever.

_To think he forgot._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next:
> 
> "How did you even— you know what, nevermind. You're just creepy."  
> “Don’t you have any responsible adults around?”  
> "Sneaky, sneaky time~"


End file.
